When It Rains
by Happyangstywriter
Summary: Hodgins POV. "You made yourself a bed at the bottom of the blackest hole...and you'll sleep till May - You'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore..." please read
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone!**

**I know I should be working on my three other stories, but I couldn't geth this out of my head! It is angst ridden for sure. Slight slash I guess. No graphic sex here in the first chapter. Lots of language. Hodgins' POV. Oh and AU. I do a lot of those. lol Essentially Booth comes to Hodgins for comfort to Jack's confusion and ends revealing a lot about himself. Hodgins tries to help him, but one thing leads to another and...yeah you have to read it. lol I apologize ahead of time for the lack continuity to the show. This doesn't follow that time line. IN my story, Bones left for a second dig. Booth is in his six week out, but...oh golly just read it. You'll understand along the way. lol I took creative liberties. But it's AU and a fanfic. People offended get a grip! lol Just kidding. **

**Song used is "When It Rains" by Paramore from their album "RIOT!"** (Fantastic album!)

**I could keep this a one shot, but I might make it a two shot if people think I could do it. That's why I said first chapter there in the begining. If I make it a two shot, I will more than probably have a full story with it for a sequel. I already have ideas spinning in my head. Oh boy it could be really fun! LMK**

**Please enjoy and leave coments of the good the bad and the ugly thoughts. lol I love to hear what people think!**

**Angsty ;-)**

**Oh, and nothing belongs to me except the plot. And even that belongs to muse. Damn.**

"Hi." Booth says flatly into my darkened parlor room. A Jeffersonian party was held here tonight in my mansion that he obviously attended. I'm not totally sure why he is still here, but there is some part of my brain somewhere saying I'm glad to not be alone.

"Hey." I answer back. For what else am I going to say? Booth and I have never been the best of friends. Sure, we get along well enough; but he and I have an unspoken understanding to silently loathe the other. It's worked for the better part of five years, why change now?

"How are you, Jack?" Now there is a loaded question. And where does he get off calling me Jack?

"Fine, I guess. You?" This is so strange to be trading normal congenial conversation with this even curiousor FBI Special Agent. There are a lot of things I have never and will never understand about Booth. However, right now isn't the time to dwell.

"Okay. Still a little sore in the back of my head, but…yeah otherwise okay." He sighs then, and invites himself to sit down.

"Oh, I guess, you would be. It's been what? Four weeks?" I ask feeling slightly guilty for not asking sooner. The bigger man did just have brain surgery.

"Six and a half." He replies.

"Oh." Is my response. How did I miss that?

A silence settles then for a few minutes. I stay by my large window that overlooks my expansive courts of green; he stays in my small decorative love seat staring at the large window behind my head. I can tell he has something heavy on his mind. Don't know what, but I somehow feel like I'm supposed to guess. I observe his pensive face with one of my own. I have never seen Booth so quiet before.

Part of me feels pity for the man. I've heard through the grapevine, he's having trouble remembering a lot of what he was. Even who he was. Booth for everyone had always been the constant. When everything was falling down, Booth was there holding the base of it all to keep it from fully toppling over. I guess for the longest time I envied that. I envied him.

I envied his strength and not just the physical strength though he certainly is physically strong. I envied his ability to pull through anything with a smile on his face, no matter how fake it was. I envied his pride and unapologetic view he had on who he was and what he stood for. I envied the smirk that screamed I know what you're hiding. What I most envied about Booth though was his acting skills. Because while I envied all of these superficial traits that this Greek god carried, I also knew it was only his façade.

Booth may appear to be a man with the plan, always in control, and always knowing just what to say to make you feel better. Booth may appear to not have many problems with life. Booth may even appear that he actually gives a damn about the world and its problems…but he doesn't and he isn't. Booth is just like the rest of us losers that can't scrape enough brain cells together to even keep the attention of a woman for longer than what I could.

And yes, I am referring to Angela.

"Is something on your mind, Booth?" I finally ask when I had my fill of doing my external evaluation. After I say it though, I realize how stupid it must have sounded. If he didn't need to talk to me, why would he be here?

He looks up at me, startled, as if just remembering where he was. With a slight shake of his head, he replies. "Yeah, actually there is."

I move to sit down when I stop. This looks like it calls for alcohol, if the vibe was clear enough for me. I head over to my scotch table and grab a couple tumblers and the bottle. This is going to be a long conversation.

After pouring each one of us a glass and his mumbled thanks, another silence settles. This is one of contemplation though I can tell form his end. He isn't sure where to start.

"Bones left for another Guatemalan dig." He finally says to my confusion. What does Dr. Brennan have to do with anything?

"Okay…is that what this is about?" I ask as gently as I could. Booth stares into the crystal of my cups as if they were his last precious gem to hold. This makes me start to become unsettled. Why does he look so lost?

"No. Just thought you wanted to know." He goes quiet again and it stretches so long I wonder if an hour passes.

I have never noticed how innocent his face is, when not on the defensive. Granted, I have never _not _seen Booth on the defensive. If that sentence even made sense. I pour another glass and observe the way he reaches for it like a starving man for food. Either he really likes my scotch, or he really needs this liquid encouragement to talk. Suddenly I begin to wonder if he is even supposed to have alcohol right now. Six and a half weeks out…yeah, maybe he could I guess. I'll just have to watch him.

"What do you…gah…" he sighs and rubs his face. I jerk slightly from the unexpected voice. I had been drowning in my thoughts. If he noticed, he sure didn't show it.

"What do I what?" I ask.

He sighs again. "What do you think of me?"

I stare wide eyed at this beautiful creature before me. What do I think of him? Where to begin? I have already listed what I envy of him, but I haven't begun to talk about what my personal belief of what or who he is. "I don't fully understand the question." I cop out. I know what he is looking for, but damn it I just can't go there right now.

"Of me. What do you think of me? Am I intelligent? Am I stupid? Am I quixotic? Do you think I'm ugly…or attractive? What do you think of me, Jack?" he asks insistently. He obviously needs this answer as much as he needs breath. Shit, what do I do? I can't shatter the obvious last string he is holding onto.

"Booth, slow down." I say instead of answer the question. "Why is this so important?"

He makes an angry noise and pushes to stand up from the chair. I stare wide eyed as he practically stomps to my window. He then freezes, staring down at the leaving cars and shuffling people. This time when he sighs, it's dripping with sadness. I am completely confused as to what has broken this man I used to think Zeus couldn't even hold a candle to.

"All of my life," he finally begins after I hear a car door slam and an engine start. "I have been taught, conditioned to be able to withstand even the worst of situations. Whether it be my father's fist, a bullies', or a terrorist's." he stops again and I stay just as quiet. This is becoming very interesting. "I am starting to think all of that training was in vain."

He turns to look at me, an unreadable expression on his face. I stay seated, wearing my own mask from my internal emotions. I feel as though I should have something wise to say, something to make him feel better; but I have nothing. And judging this conversation, he knows it.

"I used to feel like nothing could touch me. Like I was on top of the world, and everyone just bent to my will. I was a sergeant in the Army Ranger Snipers. The big leagues. I had worked my ass off to get there at that point…and then Teddy died…and everything began falling apart."

I stand now, and hesitantly begin to walk over. He flinches a little, when I reach out to comfortingly touch his shoulder. I pull back, as he steps back and turns around. "What happened, Booth?"

He sucks in a calming breath, and I can tell by the tightness of his shoulders he is forcing himself to not break down and cry out however many tears he has held up. "After Teddy's funeral, I went back in again. Even though my supervisors said not to. They kept saying my judgment would be damaged from here on out. That since I felt that Teddy was fault, I would just be out to prove something." He pauses and looks at the ground. "They were right." He concedes quietly. "I took an assignment I knew I shouldn't have. Half hoping I would die in the process; other half hoping I would come out a hero for a small victory in Teddy's name. I was so fucked up, Hodgins, I couldn't think straight."

He turns away from me again. I am still wondering what this has to do with what he asked me earlier, but I decided to go with the flow. Booth obviously needs to get this off of his chest, and I can only guess he chose me because I would give an objective answer.

"I was kidnapped that mission. I was found out…or moreso ratted out. One of my corporals was a plant." He closes his eyes now, and the only way I knew that was because I came up to stand beside him. He looks so different in the dark with only the moonlight from my large window to highlight his face. He looks almost…ethereal. And I wasn't ashamed to admit, I had never seen Booth seem more striking.

WHOA! Holding the metaphorical phone!

Am I seriously thinking Booth is attractive? Certainly not, I was making an objective observation. He is attractive, yes; but not attractive as in I am falling over him attractive…oh wait he's talking again.

"…remember thinking was…how could I be so wrong?"

"I'm sorry Booth, I didn't catch all of that." I say politely.

He opens his eyes to look at me strangely. Like I had something on my face or something. Shaking his head, he starts again. "I said," he sighs and rubs his nose, as he usually does when thinking something over, before moving to go sit back down on my love seat. "All I remember thinking during that whole time was how was I _so_ wrong? How did I _not_ see it? I am supposed to be able to catch that kind of stuff. Instead, I put all of my other men in danger, including my buddy that got taken with me." He sighs and looks again at his feet with his hands firmly clasped in front of him. I make no move, because I don't know where he is going with this. I just watch as he downs three more glasses of my _very _expensive scotch and wonder what I am supposed to say to him.

"Maybe you ought to lay off the alcohol, man. I'm sure your meds aren't conducive to it." I attempt to joke. When I see his grave face I realize something horrible. "You aren't taking them are you?"

"No, Jack, I'm not." He replies curtly and rubs his hands together.

"Why the hell not?" I ask as nicely as I can. "You just had brain surgery a month and a half ago!"

"Because I have a son I need to help support. I can't do that while on drugs to keep me in remission. I need to get back to work." He replies evenly.

"Booth," I sigh and quietly come to sit on the love seat next to him. I sigh again as I place my hands on my knees to help keep me grounded. Here we go. "That's not healthy and you know it."

"What am I supposed to do, Hodgins? I had brain surgery for a tumor that was making me see things. So what! I have to keep food on my little boy's table!" he says looking at me now, his voice slightly rising.

"By killing yourself in the process?" I reply. "Booth, listen, man…Rebecca I'm sure is-…"

"Waiting for my child support check." He finishes for me with a slight sneer in his voice. "Are you crazy or something, Hodgins? She won't let me, within ten feet of Parker if I haven't paid her first. She and I are already on terrible terms. I don't need to give her more fuel for the already large inferno! She gave me eight weeks to get back on my feet again. I have been giving her the minimum wage cut I get from the government because of my benefits. I'm barely keeping my lease, even with the small reprieve I received from my landlord…can't you see, Jack? I don't have time for me to be ill. I can't sit around on borrowed time. I have to get back to work!"

He was yelling before he was done, and I sat very still and quiet on the couch. He's not really yelling at me, he's yelling at his life. I stare at the place he used to be sitting in, since he is now standing in front of my coffee table, hands on hips, and panting heavily. He, I notice when looking at him again, is staring at the same spot. I can practically feel the internal struggle myself, as I watch him try and quell the rising tears.

Booth and I certainly have never been friends. Booth and I usually hate each other. But Booth and I do understand each other very well. I may be a rich, university taught, conspiratorial, borderline hypocrite; and he may be a semi-poor, community colledged veteran, with the ego of a lion…but he and I do get each other better than anyone. He wants the same things I do: respect from the people who still see us as a kid, justice for the unfortunate, love shared and not one-sided, and laughter on sunny days and warmth on cold ones…simple things but in our eyes things that mean the world.

So while I still don't fully grasp why he has come to me at a time like this when his sanity is hanging in the balance, I do understand that this pain runs farther than he lets on. So I gather up my courage, and approach him. It was time I tell him the answer he was looking for in the beginning. "Booth," I say softly. He closes his eyes and nods at me to speak my peace.

"You asked me earlier, what I think of you." I state. He looks my way, tears glittering in his eyes. "I think you're amazing." He sighs out the breath he must have been holding, tears reluctantly falling from the corners. He was the perfect image of someone in dire pain. "I think you are a role model to many, and a hero to most. I think you have lived through shit a lot of people would have just crawled in a hole and died in misery from. I think you are generous to people that _don't _always deserve it." He snorts in protest, and I pause giving him my 'serious' expression. "I think you love everyone unconditionally that is within your circle, even when they do nothing but hurt you. I think that that is the reason why you keep pushing Brennan to love and forgive her father, because you know that at least hers is trying to repair the damage he made, and you are never going to get that luxury." Booth sniffs and nods sadly with that. More tears escape, that he doesn't even pretend aren't there. "I think you expect too much from yourself, and stretch yourself too thin. I think you do that because you are afraid if you don't you will become your father." Booth flinches and more heavy tears begin to fall. He is silently sobbing, and I am hoping my words will break that wall he has so guardedly put up. I step closer, so close if he turns his whole body I will be able to catch and whisper, "I think you are the man the world forgets too easily. I think you are the real unsung hero everyone takes for granted. I think you are the loyal man…the one no one will be able to live without."

I am surprised that my words do the trick as his already hunched shoulders implode and he begins to fall. Quick as a rocket he's on my hard wooded floor sobbing his eyes out. I drop just as fast and hold onto his shoulders. His large, manly hands grab mine and he buries his head in my neck making me feel the water he's had to hold in for the thirty-eight years. I cry myself knowing that this is all I can do. Hold him as he cries himself tearless. Unconsciously I kiss his forehead. Once I do it, I stop, time stops, Booth stops. He slowly looks at me, water still clearly evident on his face; he takes a deep reassuring breath and leans forward. Dazedly, as if I am having an outer-body experience, I lean forward too.

Our lips touch, hesitantly. He lingers upward and my eyes glance down to his, seeing: want, need, desire, passion. A lethal combination as I initiate the second kiss. This one filled with intent, and purpose. He gives himself over as my lips roll over his, and he opens immediately for me when my tongue seeks entrance. Our tongues meeting with a moan on his part, his hands holding onto me as if he just found his salvation and won't let it go. I find myself groaning just the same, it feels wonderful to be kissed this thoroughly again. And judging the way his body was grinding against me, the sex was going to be explosive. Suddenly, I wonder what I'm doing. I am supposed to be pining after Angela. Not making out with her best friend's partner! Especially not when he is not emotionally capable of making a decision, both from the alcohol party he had a bit ago, and his distress. Wretchedly, I pull away from the kiss making him whimper in response to the now emptiness he is probably feeling.

"Booth we can't." I say panting from the horrible decision I had to make.

"Why?" he asks if a little angrily, searching my eyes with that anger clearly seared into them.

"Because it's not right." I answer. I nearly slap myself afterwards when I see the break in his chocolate brown pools.

"You sure seemed to think so a couple of seconds ago." He sneered pushing me away to get up.

I don't let him move and given his state, he has a very hard time struggling. He finally stops struggling, and stays still the righteous anger pouring off of him in waves. He has every right to be mad at me. I pushed him away when he was vulnerable, and needing someone to make him feel real again. Not to mention, I did take advantage of him for a spans of five minutes. How did I get myself into these situations?

"Booth, I didn't mean it like that." I whisper.

"Yes you did." He answers quietly, but with a clear resentment behind it bleeding out.

I sigh and rub my face, biting for time. I drop my arms, but he makes no move anyway. I hear him sigh dejectedly. Shit.

"I have never been worth anything to anybody except for my son. My buddy, he…I tried so hard to save him from the torture. It was my fuck up that got us there, not his, you know? But as they kept beating me and beating me and broke out the pipes on my feet…I just snapped okay? I couldn't take it anymore. We had been there for two months without a reprieve, and in all that time I never showed any sign of weakness. I just retreated to that all too familiar spot I had when my dad went off on me. But that day I just broke. I broke down and they got him because they're main person, being me, caved. They killed him quite quickly too because he wasn't as strong willed as I was. And I was…relieved. Jack I was happy he died and not me! That makes me such a horrible person." He wailed as the tears came steadily down his face.

"No it doesn't." I say but he was far too lost in his rambling to hear me.

"When I finally got out, I was so desperate to find someone to take the pain away I just practically leaped into a relationship with Rebecca. It lasted a while, I gambled to release the pressure we didn't fuck out of each other. But she got pregnant. She-she wanted to have an abortion…she didn't want to be a mother right away. I proposed to her and promised I would clean myself up for her and our baby and she practically spat in my face. I had never felt so dirty and betrayed than I did then, because I really did think she loved me. And I realized I was wrong again. Something I should have been able to see, I didn't catch. Someone was able to lie to me again. I felt so angry and hurt and confused, but I _did _clean myself up and I _am _an active part in my son's life…and damn it, Hodgins I'm scared okay? Scared I will revert back to the dark place I was in there again. Scared of everything! What will happen if another tumor shows up? What if it's cancerous? What if it's bigger? What if I can't work anymore? What if because of all of these other what if's I can't see my son anymore? What would happen to him… if I die?" he chokes on his sob but continues anyway.

"He's the only real thing that matters to me, and he could be taken away from me in a snap of two fingers." He snaps to illustrate his point but it's a lot feebler because of his emotional overload and alcohol consumption. "What would I do if I lost the one thing that makes me keep my grip? The only person who finds me worth anything?" he softly finishes. By this time I know he isn't even speaking to me anymore. He's speaking to himself. I sadly smile. At least I know now how all of it fits together. One thing for sure, emotional Booth was not someone I wanted to deal with on a regular basis. I found him far too confusing.

"He's not the only person who thinks you're worth something Booth. I do too." I say softly and reach for his hand as if to prove my point. Violently, however, he jerks away from me and jumps away from me.

"Bullshit!" he screams to my shock. "Nothing but fucking bullshit! You don't think I'm worth anything, because you just not five minutes ago pushed me away! It's all lies! Like everything else!" his broken voice breaks my heart too. I should have never let him kiss me the first time. Then I wouldn't have put myself in the category of liars on his list. The rational side of the argument didn't matter. He wasn't thinking rationally anymore. I lied to him. I made him believe I wanted him as much as he seemed to have wanted me, and inadvertently made myself be yet another one of his abusers. I feel like such a dirty, filthy, human being.

"No! Booth, I did-do want you like that! But I can't let anything like that happen when you aren't thinking clearly. It wouldn't be right!" I try to justify. He shakes his head and stumbles slightly, and I quickly jump to catch him before he falls.

"Stop touching me!" he yells and pushes me away. I grunt from the feeling of being thrown against one of heavy wood end tables, and come back full force. I rip the bottle of scotch from his hand and he attempts grab it when I drop it to the floor on purpose. He flinches from the sound of shattered glass and I find myself frozen in time. Just as he seems to be frozen in time. We stand, making no noise now, other than our panting breaths. He looks like a bullet train ran over him, and then backed up to run over him again. I'm sure I don't look much better. And inside all of my internal musings I forget about the broken bottle, and focus solely on how his muscled chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath. I couldn't tell you how it happened…not even if I tried; but somehow I am walking or more so half carrying a balling Booth up stairs to one of my guest rooms.

Once we arrive, I help him out of his jacket, shoes and socks. For the first time I truly notice how small waisted Booth is. There's practically-no there isn't an ounce of fat on him. He's all muscle, and built torso with solid abs. Jesus, I could wrap my arm entirely around his waist and touch my chest. I need to work out more.

After I have him situated beneath the covers, I make a move to leave and he grabs my wrist. I close my eyes from the touch, stealing myself for whatever he was about to say. Sighing, I turn to him.

"I'm sorry." He gasps out. His tears are silent now. Just steady tracks marring his beautiful face. I'm confused again for only the millionth time, tonight.

"Why, Booth? You did nothing wrong." _I _was wrong. I say internally.

"I kissed you, made you feel like you were betraying Angela. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He says with certainty and also pain in his eyes. Pain not from the earlier and original issue but from his words right now.

"Booth," I sigh again looking away from him. I pat the hand on my wrist and say, "We can't have this talk tonight. You probably won't even remember most of this in the morning. You need some sleep, babe, and I need to collect my thoughts." I smile sadly at him as he closes his eyes and nods just as sadly.

"You want me to forget." He mumbles and doesn't let go of my wrist. I brush some of his rumpled hair from his face after I'm sure his exhaustion finally sank him into rest. I sigh.

"No, Booth, I don't. That's the problem. I want you to remember, how much I want you. But you and I could never be." I sigh again and slip in on the other side of the bed. Men of kindred hearts I muse, as he moves over into the comfort of my closeness unconsciously. I continue to play with his hair in my fingers and wonder why my life has to be so complicated. Why everything has to be so damned difficult.

Angela was my… everything. I may be one of the richest men in the world, but I have nothing without her. Or so I thought. I truly loved her. I fucked everything up, but I loved her. Idly I wonder if that's what love is anyway. Fucked up people with fucked up emotions and fucked situations just trying to be a little less fucked up. I've always thought so. I guess its right, I don't know.

I move my hand lower, and wince once I feel the scar in his hair line. His hair has grown nicely back over it, but when touching it you can still feel where they removed the problem. Unfortunately, it's actually made more problems than fixed. Booth can't cope anymore with his past and everything around him. I seem to have suddenly flipped a switch and decided I could quite possibly be bisexual, in a –no- more like _many _moments of weaknesses. I shudder slightly from the memory of that kiss. It was powerful. It took over me so quickly…damn my lower brain is cursing me for stopping things.

But I am right in my decision. I know I am. Booth couldn't do something like that tonight. And I refuse to just be someone's fuck toy for release. It would have only made the huge gap between me and him larger, and made Booth that much more introverted. If nothing else, I saved us both from a lot of heartache. Maybe.

Maybe not. Maybe I am wrong and I should have gone through with it. It wouldn't have been rape. He kissed me first and he was more than willing; but at the same time it would be because I'm positive he didn't know what he was doing. I am still hazy on why he came to me anyway. Maybe it's because I would give an objective answer, but after everything else I'm inclined to believe it's something else entirely. If I knew though I would be able to piece everything together better.

I hear thunder in the distance. The weather forecaster did say we had a hurricane headed our way. I listen to the steady staccato of rain as it pelts my roof and windows, but my eyes stay focused on the body beside me. Watching as the flashes of lightening sparkle against his drying tears. I can't go to sleep yet. I have to watch him and make sure he doesn't have any nightmares. I can't go to sleep. But I'm so tired. Today has been a long day and I haven't slept with anyone keeping me warm since Angela left.

But I can't go to sleep. I won't go to sleep…_I won't…_

_And when it rains on this side of town  
It touches everything  
Just say it again and mean it  
We don't miss a thing  
You made yourself a bed at the bottom  
of the blackest hole (blackest hole)  
and convinced yourself  
that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore_

_  
and no (oh) how could you do it  
(oh I) I never saw it coming  
(no oh) I need an ending  
So why can't you stay  
Just long enough to explain  
_

_And when it rains  
You always find an escape  
Just running away  
From all of the ones who love you  
From everything  
You made yourself a bed at the bottom  
Of the blackest hole (blackest hole)  
And you'll sleep till May  
You'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore__**("When It Rains" by Paramore off album "Riot!")**_

and no (oh) how could you do it  
(oh I) I never saw it coming  
(no oh) I need an ending  
So why can't you stay  
Just long enough to explain

(Explain your side, Take my side)  
Take these chances to turn it around  
Take these chances we'll make it somehow  
And Take these chances and turn it around  
Just turn it around.

and no (oh) how could you do it  
(oh I) I never saw it coming  
no (oh) how could you do it  
(oh I) I never saw it coming  
no (oh) how could you do it  
(oh I) I never saw it coming and  
(no oh) I need an ending  
So why can't you stay  
Just long enough to explain

You can take your time, take my time.

**_Thanks for reading! Please comment and tell me if you think I could work a story and/or at least a tw shot!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so hello lovely people. Before anyone gets mad at me, as I've explained in my profile, I am taking 21 credit hours at the moment and free time has practically been non-existant. So when giving the excuse for why my stories are not getting updated, there it is. lol But I want assure everyone I have not abandoned any of them. They will all get finished, I promise. Just give me some time. Anyway, on to the subject at hand, this is the second chapter to this two-shot. "Pterawaters" has been an angel throughout the entire process of typing this out. Thank you so much, Ptera! Many kudos and DB fantasies are thrust upon you in my gratitude. lol This has been a long time coming, I know I promised it a long time ago, but it's here now! I also want to thank thise who read any and all of my fics. Particularly "Can You Love Me?" which has just gotten over 3,000 views! *Squeal* lol So please continue to read and review. It makes me smile! ;-) I do plan on having an entire serial story to follow this. Haven't had time to really think of a title to watch out for, but then again, haven't had time to even start really writing it. lol But it will be here soon.**

**So this is for everyone who reads my stuff, and Ptera who is an awesome beta! (hint for anyone needing one)  
Angsty ;-)**

The morning light hit me like a ton of bricks as it cascaded in through the open half-moon shape, above the closed curtain bay windows. I noticed the debris collecting in the corners from the hurricane. It makes me dread even looking at the state of the lawn. There goes that yacht I was going to buy myself for Christmas. Oh joy.

I was still in the room, with Booth cradled on my chest in a position I can only describe as a ball. Looking down on my sleeping partner's face, I lay in awe at how vulnerable it is. Booth is not this unguarded, and certainly never with me. If I wasn't so terrified of what his reaction to the morning was going to be, I'd let myself feel proud and privileged. Whether it's from seeing firsthand the chink in his armor, or the fact that he has trusted me enough to see it at all, I'm not sure. As I said last night, Booth and I have never been friends. It makes no sense why he would come to me when he has such an emotional problem. That's Brennan's bag…or even Cam's…maybe Angela's too…and if he's just that desperate Sweets. Never me.

And yet, here I am- holding him, a man only a few years older than me. Was it wrong that I felt slightly at home? I hope not. As I shift a little, I cause him to fall to my side. I freeze and glance his way. Shit, is he awake? Carefully studying his beautiful features, I see no he is not awake. Thank god.

I lie back again, and stare at my ceiling. How in the hell do I get out of this situation I put myself in? Even if I could grab all of my stuff and get out of the room without Booth hearing me and waking up, there was still the time when he _did_ wake up. I have to explain why he is even still here, because he certainly won't remember. Then I have to skirt around the things he said last night…more importantly _did_ last night. And still, I have the possibility of him remembering everything.

Can I just say I'm more scared of Booth than I am of a fucking black belt ninja? There is no telling what kind of hell he will put me through once he figures out he was within two inches of me ripping off his pants and fucking him into the floor of my parlor last night. It wouldn't matter if he kissed me first; the fact was it almost happened. Which in Booth's eyes practically meant _it did happen_. I was more fucked now than I even began to process last night.

Oh yeah, and then there was the prospect of Angela. What will I do when she finds out? Crawl in a hole? Ha ha-no. My life could never be that simple. It would go a little more like this…

"_Hey, Angela! I have something I need to tell you, and you might want to sit down cause it sure is a doozy!"_

"_Oh-kay, what's up?" she would reply._

"_You know how I claimed, vehemently, that I was as straight as a ruler?"_

"_Umm…ye-es. Why?" _

"_Well as it turns out, I'm more of a plastic shatterproof ruler, bent in half so it stands straight on two ends before taking a slight turn." I would pause then add, "Oh! and I figured this all out with the help of our friendly, neighborhood FBI Special Agent, Booth. Isn't this great?!" A long pause. "Angela?" A plop. "An-gela?" A scuffle. "ANGELA!" _

_---That evening_

"_In other news today, the forensic artist, Angela Montenegro, of the Jeffersonian Forensic Team was rushed to the hospital after experiencing something akin to traumatic shock…."_

Shudder. Okay, so maybe that was overdramatized, but being the conspiracy theorist I am…I think not.

Oh god, inside all of my inner ramblings, I forgot about Booth wak-

"Jack?" Shit. "Jack, you there?" Why is his voice so…I can't even put a word to it?

"Yeah, Booth, I'm still here." _Why_, I have no idea. So don't ask me.

He breathes a sigh of…relief? Maybe, maybe not. This morning is getting even weirder and it's not even six a.m. yet. And wait, how does he remember that I was here anyway? Does that mean-uuuuh oh. Houston, we have problem. A big scary, probably gonna get castrated, PROBLEM!

"I was afraid you'd left." And just like that, I'm confused.

"Really?" I ask and then realize how it sounded. "I mean, really, why?"

A soft chuckle and a rustle of sheets; and, hello chocolate brown eyes that are sure to haunt me in my most pleasurable of dreams-sleep well? "Is that a question I'm supposed to answer, or was it rhetorical?" A pause with a rub to his forehead, "And my head really hurts." He adds, as if an afterthought, while sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

I sputter, a bit, and regain my senses. He almost seems happy about what had happened last night. Have I mentioned this morning is weird? Oh, I have? Well, let me say it again. This is weird. "It was-…" I contemplate that while letting my blue eyes roam over his muscular shirt covered back. God, I seriously _do_ need to work out more! "-well, really that depends on what all you remember. I guess. And as far as the headache goes, well you did put some of my finest scotch to good use." I chuckle some there at my own joke.

He groans and falls back on the pillows, burrowing his head in the crook of my arm. I suck in a breath at the contact. This shouldn't feel this good. It should be illegal in all fifty states including Puerto Rico. Hodgins feeling like his heart is on a racetrack because of Booth _should be illegal_! "No kidding!" he says with a laugh and then grabs his forehead again. "Fuck, I need aspirin." He groans again. I am beginning to loathe that sound.

"I have some! I always keep basic medical supplies in my guest suites." He moves to get up, when I almost too excitedly jump and say, "DON'T!" A strange glance is sent my way. "I mean, you have a headache. Lay down and…don't move." I begin walking toward the bathroom when I turn around say, "Stay. _Don't_ move. _Stay put_."

I then go into the large bathroom and hope to hell he doesn't see me rush to the mirror with a frightened expression. Snap out of it, Jack! You aren't some hormonal teenager; you are thirty –four years old. And as much fun as having a go round in the sack with…well anyone beside my own palm sounded…staying collected and calm is crucial!

With that resolved, I turned to the medicine cabinet and took out the small bottle of Advil. I then quickly filled a small glass with water, and headed back to the man causing all of these problems. I was shocked to see him sitting up (albeit swaying) with a look of hurt on his face, tying his shoes. "Booth what are you doing? I thought I said stay put?" I ask setting the items down on the small vanity in the room.

He gives a mirthless laugh. "I was going to call a cab and go home. You don't want me here." Booth was on the defensive again, I could tell. Damn it, how did I screw everything up?

"That isn't true, Booth. I do want you…here." I add after a hesitation. Truth be told (Which it has many times in the past twelve or thirteen hours) I wanted him more than just here. "What makes you think I don't?"

He stops mid stand, and stares at me as if I'm the stupidest person on the planet. Okay, so maybe I am, but cut me some slack. I've never done this with a guy before…hell, never thought about _having_ to. He scoffs and shakes his head, standing with a slight woozy step. After a few hisses at his inability to stay upright, he gives up and sits back down. I walk over to help, but recoil a bit when I notice his angry expression.

"Booth I…" I what? I am sorry? "I brought you some aspirin." Coward.

Still looking at me with his 'leave me alone' expression he says, "I see that."

"I think it will help your hangover." I offer.

"No thanks. I'll be on my way in a minute. You don't have to…ah…" he grabs his head and winces. Instinctively, I rush to sit next to him and help. He pushes me off. "You can quit the act, Hodgins. I know you really don't care, and you don't have to pretend you do." He bites out looking at me in the face and continuing to rub his temple.

"I do care, Booth!" I protest.

Another scoff, "Sure you do- no-of course you do. Because that's what they all say. 'I care, Booth.' 'Let me care for you, Booth.' 'Booth, you do have someone who cares.' Bullshit! No one cares, and you don't either. You are too busy playing 'notice me, dear master' with Angela! So take your pity and go fuck yourself. I'm outta here."

Okay so that seriously stung, considering he truly isn't much better with Brennan. If that woman said jump off a bridge, he would say which one. Wide eyed, I watch as he stumbles to stand and make his way to the door. "Booth!" I practically yell.

"Aagh!" he whimpers and grabs his ears at my loud noise, then collapsed to his knees from his lack of focus on walking. I stoop to help him up, not surprisingly I get knocked to the floor. De ja` vu, anyone? I'm looking at him, getting ever angrier myself, and sitting back on my hands. He is trying to get up, but hits his arm on the nightstand and falls back down again. "Don't fucking touch me, Jack Hodgins," he warns with an almost growl. Okay that's it.

Sitting fully up now, I stomp on my knees over to him and pull him up, arms flailing. "Let me go!" he protests. I grab his right arm but miss the left he uses to flip me over the top of him. I grunt and hiss at the harsh contact the back of my head makes. Never have I hated "Tweety Bird" so much! Just as he was going to take a shaky step forward, I grab his ankle and on pure momentum sweep legs from under him. Yes! Maybe I don't need so much time in the gym? "Hodgins I swear, let me go or I'll…" He starts.

"You'll what? Jump me like last night?" I say with an exhale of breath and grab his swinging arms trying to get the upper hand in this ridiculous battle on my guest bedroom floor.

He gives me an irate look, "You kissed me first!"

"Like hell, you kissed me first; and you were practically begging me to fuck you!" I growl as he delivers a blow to my other side. Gathering all of my strength, I return the favor. I am a man that is going to win this argument. Not just because I don't want this situation hanging over my head in the future…but it actually hurt that he wanted to leave like that.

I honestly don't know why, I mean…it shouldn't. In fact, it should be great that he is so willing to go. Less trouble for me to deal with, right? But no. Last night he was so ready for me to lay him out and screw seven ways from Sunday, and now he is acting like it's all my fault, and he is the victim here. Damn it, he kissed me first! He started this attraction I can't control nor fully comprehend…and he is going to admit to it. Or at least…I don't know but something! And then the fact that he had the nerve to call me out on Angela...he was going to pay now!

After recovering, he gives his best menacing look and pushes me to the floor, straddling my hips and rocking a little with his ass over my crotch. Mother fuck that felt good! But I am supposed to be mad here. "It's not like you didn't like the idea!" he growls seductively and leans down to nip at my ear.

I stifle my urge to groan. What this man can do with his tongue should _also_ be illegal! Using a fancy little move I've learned from having too much free time to watch Japanese films; I flip him over so now I'm on top and say, "Yeah, and it's not like you were protesting either!" I then place a harsh and ravenous kiss on his cupid bow lips. I suck on his bottom lip, drawing a groan and shift in his pelvic area for comfort with his hardening shaft out of him. He sighs as he lets me into his mouth, free to explore what I will. His hands instantly go into my red curls to encourage me, but I pull back with an audible smack.

He sends a mighty glare my way, and for a flicker of a second I see sadness instead of anger. It makes me wonder again why I am here in the first place. Why did Booth come to me?

"So what Seeley, I was the first person you found to give you the time of day? Why did you practically dry hump me yesterday and now are acting like none of it mattered?!" I really needed to know this answer.

"Poor taste in judgment, sue me! The next time I have one too many martinis and four too many glasses of scotch; I'll ask your butler to do it!" Oh really? So I was just convenient? Uh-uh, no way. He will not get away with using me like some cheap trick you pick up at a raunchy bar.

"Or maybe the door man and his floozy assistant," I challenge trying hard to cover the hurt in my voice. "Cause we all know how much of slut you can be! Chasing after someone who doesn't even love you!"

Okay definite pain there now. Why did I say that? That was crossing a line. "Booth, I'm-…" and now I am on my back again. How did that happen?

"I'm the slut?!" he hisses. "Rich boy who slept with practically all of the sorority girls, and every other thing with two legs and a convenient hole?" What did he just say to me? "Including an artist who just so happened to be married on top of her surprisingly ambiguous sexuality?" He challenges and rocks his pelvis some as if to prove his point on my inability to control my dick.

I snarled there. "Leave Angela the fuck out of it."

"Why? Since I'm such a slut chasing after people who are nothing but a fantasy, why _not_ bring you and her into it?!" he screamed and proudly didn't show the pain it caused. I used my free hand to punch him in the side with another snarl.

"Because at least she loved me at _some point_!" Okay, I know I am treading now on dangerous ground, but I can't help myself. I was still reeling from the stuff he was using to lash out at me. It mother fucking hurt, and now I want nothing more than to hurt him. "Maybe not _now_, but I know for sure she _did_. You wouldn't have that, if you begged for it! Nobody loves you! You said it yourself!" I screamed.

He and I both froze and I wanted to kill myself right there. Booth was in obvious emotional trouble from something that carried over from last night, and damn if I didn't make it a million times worse. I am such an asshole! God, he's crying. And it's not the 'help me' kind of crying, it's the 'I hate you' kind of crying.

"Fuck you, Hodgins!" he says and back hands me across the face, _very hard_. Ow, I'm certainly gonna feel that for a while! "Fuck you and your fucking perfect little life!" he screams just as loud as I did. "While you're at it, go fuck Angela too, and think of me when she says I love you, and you know it isn't true. When she is in that moment of pleasure, and all you want is to hear your name, and you don't, and right after are told she can't commit to you, because your love _isn't _real! Remember me when life comes back and bites you in the ass, and you realize that in your thirty-eight years, you have done nothing worth remembering but a son that isn't even allowed to _see_ you without the consent of someone _else_ that claimed to love you. Remember me when your **fucking perfect world **_**falls apart**_!" He bellows and pushes to stand up. I let him. He had every right to.

I watch from my prostrate position as he throws on his jacket that he somehow lost in our scuffle through his tears. He's mumbling to himself and feebly trying to zip it. "Fucking stupid piece of shit!" he growls, however not as menacing.

"Booth," I say softly. He doesn't look at me, just gives up on the zipping and looks for something; I can only guess it's his phone. "Don't go."

He stops and looks in my general direction, mouth hanging open, and a myriad of emotions dancing off his aura. "Don't go?" he scoffs. "You say something like that to me, after what I told you last night, and then ask me not to leave?" He had a very valid point there. I mean had no business continuing talking to him, or ever talking to him ever again. But, I had to make it right…right? When I looked back at his face, all I saw was anguish. His walls were obliterated, and although good on some level, it was terrible on others. I have never been good with psychology, but I believe this means one of two things: I have finally broken him, or he has finally cracked enough inside to let the emotions out to heal. Hey, don't look at me like that; I am no therapist… thank God.

"Booth, I didn't mean it. I was just so mad at you for calling me out on Angela, and it hurt that you wanted to leave without talking everything over first…I'm sorry." I try and see if this would be enough to simmer him down long enough to get why he thought I would be the one to help him in the first place. But I am not too hopeful.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are." He says doing his best impression of a stiff upper lip. He doesn't want me to see how truly upset he is over it. I push to sit up and broach the subject that has been bugging me now. He backs up a step.

"Booth… why did you come to me last night?" I knew he wouldn't answer, but I tried anyway.

He looks at my face, eyes blazing. "I don't think it even matters anymore, Hodgins."

I start to stand and grunt while saying, "I think it does."

He rolls his eyes and doesn't catch himself from his pained expression. "It doesn't, and in retrospect-never did. I was wrong. I'm going." He shuffles a bit more and finds his prized cell phone with a sigh of relief.

I cross my arms and ask impatiently, "Wrong about what, Seeley Booth? I don't understand how any of this even started!"

"Forget it, Jack." He basically whispers and walks to my door again.

"No, I won't." I yell and push him against the door instead of allowing him out. I ignore the desperate look on his face to let it go, and continue. "Not after what happened last night and this morning. Not after what I said that I didn't mean. Not after you balling into my arms last night on the floor, and not after you being so upset even now! Tell me damn it, I deserve that much!" No, I deserved nothing after telling him no one loves him; but, he doesn't have to see the flaw in my reasoning.

He stares at my rumpled shirt for a long moment, and I stare at the tear stains on his cheeks. This man is very hard to figure out, this is certain. But like I said last night, on some level, he and I get each other. Maybe superficially, but on a common plain he and I get it. A sigh escapes his mouth and he closes his eyes for a moment. "I thought you were my answer to understanding why my life was such shit. I heard you in my coma dream, narrating everything, keeping everything in perspective and when Bones and I…" he stops there and I notice the earlier pain come back full force. Okay, here was the real issue. FINALLY! I thought I would have to perform a magic spell or something!

"When Bones and you what?" I prod.

He evades that and goes on, "When I woke up from the coma…I was very confused."

"I remember hearing that from Cam or someone." I squint a little in concentration on his words.

"Yeah, well…in my dream… Bones and I were married, and going to have a baby, and…everything was so _amazing_. So _right, _and I woke up and nothing was the same. Bones was still just Bones, and I was still just Booth; and the life I wanted wasn't here anymore. She left for Guatemala, which was okay because I needed to get myself under control again. But then she comes back, and I give her the big speech about what was going on…" He sounded so sad I almost wanted to cry myself. "She told me it was impossible, that my dream was just that- a dream. And that I was just delusional, and that maybe I needed some more time with Sweets." He quiets for a moment. "When she actually started believing that Sweets and his psychology actually were worth something other than a laugh, I have no idea." He adds in a snide whisper. I try, and I mean seriously try to keep the shock off of my face…I think I failed when he looks like an abashed puppy. I grab his chin and force him to look at me.

"So all of this really _was_ about Bones?" I say softly. His breath hitches at my stroking of the place under his mouth.

"Yes and no." He whispers. "I…She was just so….It was just all _wrong_." He says and looks me straight in the eye. "It was supposed to be perfect! I was supposed to tell her how I feel, and she tell me she feels the same way. And then everything starts falling into place." He sniffles and plays with one of the wrinkles on my t-shirt. "I mean, I love Bones! Why can't she love me? It surely isn't just because she says she doesn't believe in love. There has to be something else! I have to not be doing something right! Or maybe…" he sighs and rubs his face with a shake his head sadly. "Maybe it's just me. She trusts me with her life, sure. I'm a former sniper, of course she would. But her heart, no. Why? I'm beneath her, both intellectually and sexually." He wails.

I gape at him, "She actually said that?" I ask in shock.

"No," he sighs. "But it's the only reason I can come up with."

Shit this was awful! And then I had to go and say- oh damn it all to hell! How much more stupid could I have truly been? "Oh god, Booth" I say with utter sympathy, pulling his chocolate colored head down to rest on my shoulder when his own started shaking.

"Worst part is," he cries, "I don't even think she meant to make it sound mean. I'm the one that misinterpreted everything! It would be so much easier to hate her if she was trying to be mean to me. I would have a reason to. But…in her own way she was trying to help me."

"Brennan is like that." I agreed. I don't think she set out to hurt him, I think that he was so caught up in the possibility of all of his dreams coming true, he forgot to be careful with the warning signs. I feel so bad for him.

"I know." He sniffled and looked up at me. "I read _us_ wrong too. I can always pick out lies from truth, Hodgins. Always. Why am I so fucked up now?"

"I don't know, babe, I don't know." The endearment slipping in unconsciously. I wiped the tear away from his eye and he mumbled something while wiping his nose.

For the next few minutes, both of us stood silent save for the sound of sniffling coming from Booth. Well, at least it all makes sense now. He thought I was going to be the one that put his compass back together again. He heard me in his dream, and took that as me being his guide in this treacherous life. If only he knew how much I wish this were true. He probably thinks I want him to leave now. For whatever reason, I don't want him too.

This is truly all very ridiculous. I mean, there's Angela and Brennan and our friends…and his son and Rebecca and… and so many other reasons for why this is wrong. WAY WRONG! But looking at him now, I believe none of them really matter. This isn't about lust anymore; this is about doing the job I was silently asked to do last night. Make him whole again. Make him see that his life really does mean something, and that when I said all of what I thought he was I meant every word.

This is about fixing the mess I made, too. Reminding him of the things he told me in confidence was unforgivable. He probably doesn't believe I didn't mean it, but I didn't. Not at all. I lead him away from the door, and sit him in the chairs beneath the still closed bay windows. I bring the aspirin and the water back over to him, which he now accepts with an apologetic smile about his refusal before. I smile back and sit across from him.

A few more minutes of him playing with his zipper and me watching him before he starts talking again in a voice so low I can almost not hear it. "I'm sorry I jumped you like that, Jack." He says.

I'm quick to respond, "It's alright. Like you said, it wasn't like I was against the idea." I laugh a little there, but he doesn't.

"But it was still wrong. You probably have never even slept with a man before." He continues softly, still not looking at me.

I chuckle again some at the truth of that statement. "I can certainly say I have never even found a man attractive before…let alone was so willing to fuck one."

He glances up at me with apologetic eyes. "I really am sorry that I even came to you. It's not your problem, it's mine."

I try and hide the pain at hearing that. I know he is just trying to mend fences, and I don't think he meant it the way it sounded. "Booth, really it's alright. I'm not mad…well not anymore."

He sends me a questioning look and I elaborate. "I was mad that you mentioned Angela. And while what you were saying was true…it was hard to hear."

"Kinda like what you said to me." He agreed shaking his head.

"No, because I said that in spite. I never meant it."

"Well so did I," he pipes looking at me in protest.

"Yes, but what you said was actually true, and you didn't say it to hurt me so much as to prove a point. You were hurting because you felt like I was pushing you away when you needed me, and you wanted me to see that I am so wrapped up in Angela, that I'm not looking at what is right before me. Your reasons were a lot nobler than mine. I just wanted you to see how much it hurt for you to do that and walk away from me at the same time."

He looked at me with affection and said, "I have never heard you speak so eloquently before."

I chuckle, "What can I say? I'm a basket full of surprises."

He stares at my lips and seductively says, "You are basket full of other stuff too." I meet his eyes instantly, and he blushes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

I just drop it and instead ask the question that has been silently bugging me. "Booth, what's your story about experiences with men? I honestly never took you for one to bat on both teams."

He looks at me like a deer caught in headlights and opens his mouth a couple of times. "It's umm…it was a long time ago. And I really don't want to talk about it."

I eye him carefully and reply, "How long?"

"A _long_ time ago." He quickly answers and pulls further back into his chair. "And it's a story I'd rather not get into."

"Booth, I'd like to help you. But you have to open up to me first. I won't judge you, I promise." And I meant that.

He looked terrified of the idea of having to tell the story, but I needed him to. "You'll think less of me. You'll find me less than you, and I don't think I can handle that." he said.

"No, I won't Booth. I never could."

He sighs dejectedly. "High School."

"High School? With who?" this was interesting.

He grunts with my persistence. "His name was Darren. Darren Jericho."

I nod, "Nice name."

He goes back to playing with his jacket and fingers, slowly becoming more lost to memories as he tells them. "I was fifteen, he was eighteen, and we had met at a party. I was on the JV football team, since I was only a sophomore, and he was on the Varsity Hockey team because he was a senior. Back then, I was doing anything I could to rebel against the system, but not enough to get expelled or kicked off the team. Pops was sorta at a loss for me, and decided to let me run my course."

"Pops?" I ask not understanding.

"My grandfather." He supplies while picking at a nail and glancing my way. "Since my dad bailed on me at ten, Pops had taken it as his responsibility to raise me and Jared."

"Your mom?" I further inquire, leaning forward some.

"She…had better things to do." He says slowly. I nodded in sympathy. "I never really saw her after Dad hit the road. She always blamed me for him leaving." He snorts. "He would beat the crap out of her, but she was still upset he left. Makes no sense."

I scrunched my brow looking over at him, "Why would she blame you?"

He sighs in age old sadness. "I saw what all he did to my mom. Most times, neither of them knew I was around, but I saw. And when I was four or five he started in on me. It wasn't too bad at first…but by eight I would miss days of school." He's quiet for a second. "There was this one time a truant officer came by, and we had to make up this ridiculous story of why I missed so much school. Can't believe we got away with it." He chuckles a bit there. "Anyway, sometime in my tenth year…I don't exactly remember all of the lead up just that I was on the ground; bleeding and that I hurt absolutely everywhere." He swallows. "My dad got in my face and said, 'You are not the son I want. You are a disgrace to everyone and I do not love you. And everything that happens to your mother and brother is your fault'."

Booth stopped to wipe his tears away there with a sniffle. "I can actually remember that even after however many years it's been. Not to mention, my mind was really foggy at the time so it's a wonder how the words even registered. But they did, and shortly after that all I saw was black. When I woke up, I was in Pops' room, with him looking at me from a chair. I was confused and my body hurt like a son of a bitch." He shakes his head ruefully. "He told me Dad left, and my mom said that me and Jared were going to live with him from now on."

I was heartbroken about this story, but still confused at what it had to do with Seeley's mom blaming him. "Then why?" I ask gesturing with my hand about my earlier question.

He looks back down at his lap. "I think- and I don't know this for sure- but I think she equated Pops' protectiveness of me that night to being the reason Dad left. And it probably was. I was unconscious when it all went down, so I don't know what all was said." He snickers a bit without any humor. "Kind of too much of a chicken shit to ask, but I think that she sort of just saw me as the problem. I know it sounds bad on my mom, I mean, a mother's instincts are always to protect their child right?"

I nod my head, being so naïve as to accept that. "Well, the rules are different in an abusive relationship, Hodgins. It's 'All for one and one for no one,' you understand? And yes, there are the times when the mother is terrified for her kids, but I just wasn't that lucky as to get in that lane." He clears his throat. "So from an early age, it was necessary to my life to know how to protect myself. Just innate, you know?" He asks more than states, as if he is begging me to just say I understand even if I don't.

"Yeah, I do." I smile benevolently and reach over to hold his hand in a comforting way. He wipes his eyes and clears his throat again.

"Anyway, back to the original story." He smiles a bit when my eyes meet his. "I was at this celebratory party. I can't tell you what we were celebrating; I don't remember, just that I had had one too many cups of cheap beer. Me and my crew of this period were sitting in a circle in this room-I think it might have been a living room at the house the party was at-and something was getting passed around. Now, up until this point I had been able to stay away from the use of drugs. Although back then drugs were a little more_… looked over_ than now, I still had a feeling they were not something I should get involved in." Good for him. I nod proudly.

"But that night…damn I was _so_ wasted. I was trying to drink away all of the pain and guilt that had happened to me, and here was this line of something _guaranteed_ to make it all better and…I was about to snort it when someone from behind me picked me up and practically dragged me into a closet somewhere. I was pissed off on one hand, needing to throw up my alcohol intake on another…and probably on a foot wanting to know who the hell picked me up and took me away from my friends." He beams as he stares at wall, probably remembering something. "And there he was. A blurry picture of sandy blonde hair, tanned perfect skin, bright blue eyes, and a muscular body to boot." If I didn't know this guy better(and in a lot of ways, I'm beginning to realize I don't) I'd say he actually giggled.

"The southern accent did nothing to eliminate my immediate attraction to him. He was just so…ugh, surprisingly _sexy."_I shift a little in my seat, slightly uncomfortable. He doesn't seem to notice. "And while he was chewing me up one side and down the other, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to kiss him if I tried." He turns red there looking very cute while embarrassed, "However, when I _did_ try…I kind of threw up on his shoes instead." I valiantly tamped down my urge to laugh. I think everyone has had an experience similar to that at some point in their life.

"He took me home. I lived in the basement, so he helped me sneak back in through the small window. I asked him why he cared about me so much, after he helped me into bed…and he said…he said that it was because he had been watching me the whole party and that he thought I was…beautiful." He chokes up a bit and I can see this is getting hard for him to talk about now. "He left that night…nothing happened. And while I knew my head was going to hurt for quite a while, I had emptied the contents of my alcohol abused stomach all over his sneakers…so I wasn't as sick anymore. I remember wondering if I would ever see him again," a pregnant pause' "if I ever even wanted to see him again. And…I decided I did because he was the first person to care enough about me to prevent me from doing something stupid." Just like that the semi-happy memory spell is broken and his expression is cloudy, signaling the impending storm.

"Wow. What happened after that?" I ask trying to keep him going.

He clears his throat again and says, "I went to school on Monday, and found him standing at my locker. I was confused as to why and how he knew where I was in the large place, but he was there and I didn't think too much about it. He wanted to know if I would be interested in hanging out with him. And being the stupid fifteen year old I was I said yes." He stopped, and I swallowed. I didn't like where this was going…if it was going where I had a horrible feeling it was.

"We started a friendship of sorts. I told him everything about myself, and he was always the avid listener. I depended on him most of the time. It was the first time I had ever been able to do that. Pops was great, I mean as much as a grandfather could be…but Darren just seemed to get it. He made me feel wanted, and happy, and…and really just made me feel, which was a step up from where I was. I just…" he stops and his eyes get even cloudier for a second before he continues. "I idolized him. He was everything to me. I was totally in love with him, and I kept it from everyone because having feelings for a guy when you are a guy yourself was still taboo back then. Unless of course you're a rock star than anything was free game."

"Viva la 80's." I grin.

He starts laughing despite himself, and I am glad I made him lighten up some. He seemed like he needed it.

After calming down, he cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, a couple of weeks before my sixteenth birthday he kissed me. We had just completed our plan of sneaking me out of my new house-we had moved-and into the school's ice rink. He had worked really hard to teach me how to skate, and I had become _obsessed_ with hockey." He sent me a sarcastic look, "Surprise, surprise huh?" I nodded in agreement. "I had slipped on a particularly slippery patch of ice, and landed ass over teakettle. He helped me up, and then just… _kissed me_. Looking back I realize it wasn't very romantic at all, but at the time it was great! I finally got my first kiss." He smacks his lips a little and I sit dumbfounded.

"Wait, he was your _first _kiss?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yeah, pretty much first everything." His voice sounded sad.

"Even your first…" I trailed off with a flick of my hand.

He nodded. "But I'm getting to that." he added. "Anyway, after that, I was pretty much on cloud nine for the two weeks leading up to my birthday. It was just a whiz of kissing, groping, winning the games for football, and dreaming up my life with Darren at the center of it. I had it all figured out too. He was going to college soon, so when he did, I would drop out and get a job; and we would be in an apartment somewhere, he would get a degree in something and everything would be fantastic." Another pause before he adds with an evident snarl. "The bastard actually _furthered_ my fantasy life, by helping me with some ideas on what we were going to do." He shakes his head, forcing himself away from anger and back into mild observation. "And then basically right after that was my sixteenth."

Oh god, here we go. "He had prepared me a rather unimaginative dinner in a rather ridiculous form of attempted romanticism… that at the time made me feel special." Twisting his neck I heard it pop. He's becoming more and more uneasy. "We were going to have a picnic under the stars, and hey, I wasn't _totally_ stupid…I knew what he wanted to do." Booth visibly gulped. "I was _so damn nervous_. I didn't know what to do, and he was just like the _picture_ of calm. Like he did it every day. And all throughout the meal I couldn't stop my fear of not doing it right, and screwing everything up between us. I wanted him to think me equal to himself."

The further Booth got into this particular night, the more I noticed he was drawing in on himself. Like he was the spectator to memories he wanted forgotten. I wonder if maybe I should have just let him be and not asked him to share all of this. Wonder if I want to hear this at all. "When we were done with dinner, he kissed me. Still nervous as hell, I didn't respond to him as eagerly as he was expecting me to. He pulled back and looked at me and I said I was sorry. He said he was going to give me my birthday present." He gave a small shudder and rubbed at his mouth.

"And then he started again, and it _still _didn't work out right. I was _so_ fucking afraid he would be mad at me, but I pulled back and I said I wasn't ready for us to have sex yet. He looked at me with eyes I didn't recognize from him. Like he was the lion, and I was a rabbit. It scared the piss out of me." I clasped his hand as his voice started wavering. "He told me everything would be okay. That he would take care of me." And there was that statement from earlier. "Then he helped me to lie down and said relax. I didn't _want_ to relax, I _wanted_ to leave."

He sucked in a breath and I had to force myself to not come near him and hold him away from his demons. Right now, I don't think it would be wanted. "He kissed me again and started removing our clothes. I was trying really hard to get in the mood, but I was too scared. I knew that I loved him, and when you love someone you do this for them…so I let it go farther. I…" he hesitates and jerks a little from the memory, "sucked him, cause he said to. He said the saliva makes it easier to get inside, and I didn't really know what that meant. But I decided I had to. I felt so dirty afterwards, and it didn't help that he was… like _forcing_ himself on me. I didn't like it, and I told him I wanted to stop. That I was sorry but I wasn't ready. He said I was. That at sixteen every boy was."

I am now getting scared for Booth. I do not like this at all. And it's getting increasingly hard to not reach over hold him to myself. I really don't need all of the mental pictures he's giving me, I mean I can guess where it goes from there but…Booth needs to talk about it. He has to. It's the only way he can get better. "I wanted to believe him." he continues. "I mean, I wanted to believe he wouldn't do something that wasn't appropriate. You know, I mean," he looks at his lap and wiped at his eyes, "_I _was the inexperienced virgin; _he_ was the guy I draped myself around. So, it only made sense that I was just freaking out because it was my first time. For a second or two, I thought _maybe_ what he was doing was wrong; but then I remembered that if he and I were going to run away together, we would be doing this all of the time." He bites his lip to hold in his sobs.

"So, I let him." he continues unconsciously drawing a knee up to his chest on my chair. "I let him stick his fingers down _there_" he looks down and makes a hand motion towards 'it,' "with his spit covering them…I let him somewhat stretch my asshole…I let him talk to me like a whore…I let him touch me in places no one else had…I let him…" he sucks in breath forcefully trying to make himself continue. "I let him…" he stopped and started sobbing.

I couldn't help myself anymore, and got out of my chair to pull him down to the floor with me. "Shh, Seeley, it's okay now. He can't hurt you anymore." I whisper in his messed up brown hair as I rock him slightly back and forth.

"No Jack," he wails, tears falling into my chest. "It isn't okay. Because three weeks after that was graduation for him." he stops to look up at me, his eyes now glassy and puffy from everything that had happened in these last two days, his words practically stuttered through the lakes spilling out of his eyes and the uneven breath coming out of his mouth. "The Sunday before the final week, was the day he told me."

"Told you what, baby?" I ask him, slipping in that endearment again and wiping away the falling pieces of his heart.

"That he had to stop fooling around." He takes in another shuddering breath. "He had been fucking me every chance he got since my birthday, and he said that he was leaving for NYU. When I told him I would drop out and come with him, like we had planned…he said he wasn't going to take…take a _loser_ with him." he pushes back from me then, obviously ashamed. "He said I was nothing more than a _game _to him. A _fuck toy_ as of late. That I wasn't worth anything more to him, than _**a chance to get off**_."

I stared at his shaking back in disbelief. After all that, the bastard just up and left him? No wonder Booth was so adamant about being sorry that he threw himself at me last night. It probably made him feel as if he wasn't any better than Darren-taking advantage of someone inexperienced and you can manipulate. Difference was, I knew exactly what was going on…and while Booth would have been my first _guy_…he…well he certainly wasn't my first anything else.

He startles me by speaking up again with intermittent sniffles. "After that I just slept around. STD's having absolutely _no_ effect on me or my fears. I forced myself to forget about him, and promised myself he was going to be the _last_ person to ever fuck me over _again_." He pauses, "Both literally and figuratively, but I'm sure you can see now it hasn't exactly worked out like that."

God, I wish someone would tell me what to say. Here he is, falling apart, and within inches of having nothing left…and here I am, the man who promised to fix it, and don't know what the hell to do. I have never been as unsure of myself as I have been in the last two days. It's fucking infuriating!

I was just about to open my mouth when he whispers, "Is this the part where I leave and neither one of us ever mention this again?" I hear the worry in the voice. He does a good job masking it, but it's there. He's afraid his suspicions were true, and I think less of him. I don't though, obviously. I think he is the most amazing man I have ever met.

My problem is telling him that, and him actually believing me. Right now, I have seen so much of Booth he has never let anyone else see, and it makes my romantic side melt a little. Angela let her guard down around me, sure, but not like this. Some would argue it's because she doesn't have as much baggage as he does, but I don't find that true. Every individual has baggage, and all of the baggage is equal in the amount of pain it causes us. Yes, some of it could be worse than others, take Booth for example, but that doesn't mean someone else doesn't understand the hurt.

My fear…or really my new realization…is that Angela never trusted me enough with hers. She rarely ever talked about her family life. It took us trying to get married for me to find out she had been, or was still actually. It took us trying to find the guy to find out she was bisexual and had been in a very serious relationship with a rather nice young woman. It took learning of this girl to know she had changed her name…

My point is she never offered that up herself. I was always in the midst of something pulling-no-more like _dragging_ it out of her. And that worries me. Was everything she and I had a lie? Am I more like Booth than I had originally thought? Why did it take Booth coming last night and turning my world upside down to see this? Shouldn't I have been more aware than that of my own life?

Now I'm even more confused.

So I continue to stare at Booth's back (his oh so muscular and perfect back) and wonder: is it really over with Angela? Is it time for me to move on?

"I guess I'll go." He mumbles and stands, not looking at me. I realize I had been silent for too long. He got the wrong idea. He thought I was waiting for him to leave.

"No, wait!" I frantically say and jump up.

"Jack," he almost whines as he stops and turns back to face me, tears falling from his precious coffee stains. "Please…just let me go. I've made you uncomfortable, I get it; and I'm sorry. Please just let me make this easy and leave so you don't have to feel the guilt of throwing me out." He sniffles, "Please just…just let me keep _some_ dignity. I won't ever talk about it again. I promise, just…just please don't make a fool out of me now." He was begging me by the end, and I felt as if I was on auto-pilot. I was no longer in control. Being with Booth was my only option.

I was his fix-all, and so he was mine. I said earlier Booth was trying to make me see what was right in front of me…and well, I'm seeing it loud and clear! He was here, Angela was out there. _I _am here. So I will be here. I will fix the mess of the man left without much hope, and in turn fix myself. I can only wish it will stay fixed and I won't be in this place of confusion again anytime soon.

He looks nervous as I advance on him, taking a shaky step backward. "Jack?" he questions and at that exact moment I kiss him hard and deep, catching his back as he nearly falls down from the shock of the situation. At his gasp, I force my tongue inside and hear him moan eagerly.

He starts to get more aware of what just happened, and responds to my new direction. If a little bit unsure still. I walk him backwards until I feel the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Suddenly, he tenses.

"Hodgins?" he pants. "What are you doing?" he was out of breath from the rapacious attack I had placed upon his mouth, his lips red and swollen in the after math.

I softly place my hand on his cheek and stare into his dazed and dilated eyes, "Fixing you." Fixing me. "Fixing everything." He seems mystified, but I run my hand through his hair and bring his head back down to mine. Sometimes I really hate height differences. Especially since he was wearing shoes and I wasn't. Hadn't exactly had time if you remember.

I bring my hands to his shoulders, taking care I don't do anything too fast and slowly strip his jacket from him. It's the first time I notice he's wearing one of his favorite t-shirts underneath. I know this, only because on every occasion the entire Jeffersonian crew goes out, he wears it. I think it's because Brennan had complimented him on it once or something.

I groan as he nips at my lip. I think he's starting to warm up to my plan. Gradually I lower him back onto the now bedraggled comforter, and ease myself to lie across him. He freezes and I pull back to soothe him. "Listen, babe, I won't force you to do anything you don't _want _to do." He sighs in relief and nods silently. "But I also want to help you, and the only way I can do that is by…"

"…me opening up to you." He finishes the words I had spoken earlier with a faint smile.

I smile back and brush the pad of my thumb over his lips, "Yes, by you opening up to me."

He seems to consider this before saying, "I want to. Jack, _believe me_, I do." I nod and wait for him to continue. "It's just every time I let someone in…_anywhere_ that has to do with me, I always get burned in the end." He sniffles again and says, "And I don't want to be like Darren and use this situation for my pleasure because you aren't-…" I cut him off.

"Seeley, you are not _Darren_." I say the name with venom. I never want to hear nor speak of it again! "I am not a virgin. I have known this whole time what was going on; and felt enough in control to being able to stop at any time. Don't think I haven't." I eye him, but he remains expressionless. "You may be my first guy, but you are not manipulating me, okay?"

A pregnant pause and then, "Promise me, Hodgins…promise me you won't hurt me." That wasn't the answer I thought I was going to get, but it works. I'm scared to make this promise. Can I commit myself to never hurting him like everyone else has?

A faint picture of Angela sweeps through my mind and then I look at him staring at me with this look need, desperation, fear, and something I can't quite put a finger on.

Angela…

Booth…

Angela's out _there_ somewhere right?

And I'm _here_…

I kiss him softly and pull back to see his eyes closed and his features pulled tight in anticipation of my answer. "I won't hurt you Booth. Not now, not ever." Well, at least I will try my very best not to. I hope I'm not lying to him.

He smiles at me for the first time free of sadness; and I smile just as bright. Yes, as best as I can I won't hurt him. Slowly we meet again, and this time there is an underlying trust causing us to just flow with the waves of pleasure as they come. I am putting all of his demons back in their closet, and I will rid him of them before we are through. He will know how amazing he is. "This is going to be all about you, babe. Not about me. I know it's been said before, and I know it always wound up hurting you; but…" I stroke his bicep and sigh, "let me take care of you, Booth." He looks at me startled. "Let me be what you need to survive again."

Tears spring to his eyes from my sincerity and he strokes my face in a reverent manner. "Just don't hurt me."

"Never." I reply with a heartfelt smile.

I then let my finger tips graze his nipples through his top and revel in the hiss I get. I'm positive they're hard for me now. My fingers continue their exploration downward, stopping at the hem. He sucks in a shuddering breath and his skin gets goose bumps just as I slide my hands underneath.

"Sit up some," I ask of him in a gentle voice. He closes his eyes and sits up for me to be able to drag the dark colored fabric over his head. I sit back and gaze. Three days ago, seeing a man naked would have had no affect on me…but now, it' like the entire world has come to a halt. And I find myself smiling. I can probably get used to this change.

"Perfect," I whisper. He blushes and I say, "You are the definition of the perfect man, Seeley. Don't be shy with me." He groans loudly as he flops back onto the bed, I have attached my lips to his bellybutton, and the noises wash over me like water in a pond of lust. I delve my tongue in and out, in and out, in and out until I feel his cock rock hard in the jeans below my face.

He is making so much din, I can barely stand the long drawn out experience I am giving him; but I am determined to do this right. I refuse to make Booth feel like the whore _Darren_ (hiss) did. He isn't one, he has just been handed a rotten bag full of experiences.

Once I'm done, I feel him twitching with need. "Oh, Jack." He moans and feebly seeks to strip me of my shirt. "Please, naked…now." He groans again as I use one arm to take it off. He leans up and kisses me as I trail a hand under his back and down his pants. He seems to appreciate it as he grabs my own ass and squeezes. I grunt a, "Yes."

His own hands travel down the back of my pants, and never have I ever felt such pleasure than having someone rake a finger across my asshole. It feels amazing. Like a tickling sensation, yet something that doesn't make you laugh but makes you moan and beg for it to continue. I wonder if that's exactly how he feels right now.

I move my hand to the front of his pants, taking care that I do everything in a non-threatening and slow progression sort of way. We were not just going to fuck, we were going to take our time and I was going to put him back together again. Suddenly I'm nervous. Am I just wishfully thinking I'm cut out for this? I mean, what if I don't do it right? Then I would be making a total fool of myself! Not to mention, I would make him feel really bad, because it's Darren all over again! Shit, what am I supposed to say if it turns out terrible and doesn't help him at all?

"_Well, oh well, can't say I didn't try?"_ NO! Of course not!

But then I hear that throaty groan of his sound off, and I want to smile. Maybe I'm not doing such a bad job? Keeping my four fingers still inside his pants, I use my thumbs and the top of my hands to undo his button. He loses contact with my ass and I almost whimper at the loss that tickling feeling.

"Jack, unngh" he moans as I purposely drag my fingers across his still covered erection while slipping his pants off of his hips. Grinning at my forgetfulness, he kicks off his shoes so I can fully undress him. He groans out again when I slip his boxers off as well and take the length of him in my mouth. He had said that he felt dirty after doing this; well, I am going to show him dirty I don't feel. I am seriously getting off on how blissed out I am making him.

Now since I have never been on the giving end of blow jobs, I improvise with what I remember women have done for me during this type of thing. I flatten my tongue and swirl around his shaft, remembering to focus on the head. I use my free hand to play with his balls and almost want to stroke myself from the verbal appreciation I get. Never would I have guessed I would be good at this sort of thing, but he's clutching the sheets with a white fist and crossing his arms over his face, so I guess I am. I would laugh at the irony of it, but I'm afraid of hurting his precious manhood.

A few more sucks and he raises his legs to tighten them around my head. It's kind of hard to continue with him gripping me so fiercely; but as long as he is enjoying it, that's all that matters. I'll manage. "Jack…._fuck_, oh Jack…I'm ugh, shit…I'm…_ohhhh, __**yes**_!" And with that he cums in my mouth. At first I'm a little weirded out by the sensation, but eventually it turns pleasurable. So does the feeling of his hands in my hair and the relaxed state of his muscles. Point one for Jack Hodgins, thank you very much.

I kiss the inner part of his thigh a few times, licking the leaking semen from my lips, and slowly kiss back up the front of his body, admiring everything as I go. He sighs in contented satisfaction when I make it to his neck. "Thank you," he says and chuckles a bit when I hit a particularly ticklish spot on his collar bone.

"I told you Booth, this is all about you. Nothing to…_kiss to his left nipple_…thank…_kiss to his right_…me for." And I kiss his mouth delving my tongue inside his parted lips, and allowing him taste himself and me at the same time. 'So hot' is all my lust addled brain can think. I shift a little so my crotch is rubbing against his now flaccid cock, he sighs again and I join him. There is no need to be in a rush here. We are rebuilding, and that takes time. So we will take our time.

I pull back and look again at his beautiful body. I may not be quite as big as Booth in any sense, but I'm not small either. In fact, out of Sweets, Zack, and myself; I'm the closest to him. Maybe not in height, but everywhere else. He has his eyes hooded and beseeching of me to do something. Not even Angela has been that sexy, and I am struck by this thought. I find Booth sexier than Angela? Since when?

Well since when do I find men sexy at all? So there, I've sort of answered my own question. Maybe. My mind is too hazed in desire to know for sure. I touch my chest, and progressively lower my hands to my pants, making sure he is watching everything like a glutton waiting for ice cream. I send a seductive grin as I pop open the button and lower the zipper. I feel like such a tease doing this, but I have to make him hot for me again. So I get on my knees, give a sway of my hips for good measure, and soak in the look of desperation and anticipation on his face. Oh yeah, that's right.

Booth was actually whimpering for me when I was done stripping for his entertainment. I can't believe it, considering his age, but he is actually hard for me again. Well that makes things easier. I am about ready to kiss him again when he says something that stops me, "You are hot, Jack." It was barely more than a whisper.

I pull back and look into his face, he seems nervous of my reaction, but I simply smile. "You are hot too, babe. Hotter than the sun." And with that I swoop in and kiss him hard. I try and avoid rubbing our erections together. I don't want to get ahead of myself. Instead I play with his tendrils of brown, and gently kiss the hollow of his neck. I revel in the feeling of him attempting to return the favor, albeit hesitantly. I know he is still afraid of what is yet to come, but I don't want him to think too much about it.

"Jack?" he asks on a breath. I looked up from my position into his eyes, which seemed strangely resolved. More like regular Booth, instead of the other Booth. What did I do wrong? Or rather right or…whatever. What _happened_ is the question.

"Yes?" I ask sounding unsure.

He chews on his lip a little and then firmly says, "I want to explore you, too." Okay so he started out firm and then wasn't so much at the end. Kudos for trying though.

I smile kindly at him and roll over, waiting for him to begin. "Remember, Booth, this is about you okay?"

"I know," he answers quickly. "I do, I just," he pauses as he uses a finger nail to drag across my chest, the red mark that was left only giving me tangible pleasure, "I need to feel some control, Jack. You understand?" He asks with a flick of his eyes my way.

"Yeah, of course." He has been closed off to letting go for so long, it only made sense that he wanted to feel like he was navigating the happenings. And he asked for it, told me he needed it, and I am here to supply his needs. Every one of them.

He slowly mounts my legs and gives an appreciative nod. His eyes then wander all over my chest and to my…u-huh…nether regions, which seem to please him quite well. Phew. Giving me the sexiest smile I have ever seen, he walks up on his knees and pulls both hands down my already red marked chest and up my arms, locking our hands together over my head. He smiles again as he purposefully shifts his erection on my leg, yanking an unsuspecting yelp and groan from me. That felt good.

He kisses my neck once, then pulls back to kiss my chin. He then kisses my mouth, and forces his tongue inside, gripping my hands almost viciously as he lays his body fully across mine. I am about to get lost when he pulls back and smiles at me. "How do you feel?" he asks softly stroking my chin.

Damn great, I want to respond but say instead, "Wonderful."

"Good, but I'm not done." He starts to pepper kisses down my front and stops at every crevice to make sure they all receive attention, when he gets to my lower abdomen he stops, "Huh," he mumbles using the pad of his pointer to finger to inspect where he stopped. "Where did you get this scar from?"

I look down. "Oh that?" I grunt a little from the strain on my neck. It's barely there, so how he noticed it is amazing. "When I was twelve I had to have my appendix removed." I explained. "Hurt like hell that afternoon when it ruptured or whatever. I was _more_ than glad to get that little organ out and gone." I laughed there but Booth seemed lost in concentration.

"I have a scar in this exact same spot." He says almost in a distant voice.

"Really?" I ask surprised. "I didn't see it."

"I've used a lot of scar removal cream to get it to not be so noticeable." He says and continues tracing my incision.

"What's it from?" Hopefully it's something meaningless, like he fell off a bike or something. _And pigs are actually purple_. Ha! I wouldn't be so lucky.

"My dad." He whispers. "He umm…he threw me into this glass china cabinet that had belonged to my mother's mother, and a shard got lodged in my side." Like I said, I wouldn't be so lucky. "I never met my grandma until I was thirteen. Mom had always said she was a cheap, bigoted, Catholic bitch; that had no business being in any of our lives anymore. When she visited me that one time, she told me that…" he stops and sucks in a breath and to swallow, "that I was going to be the one to make it." He meets my gentle eyes with a ghost of a smile. "That I had the makings of greatness in me, and that she was honored to have been able to meet me before she died. I was taken aback by her kindness; I truly believed she was going to hate me. I was…I was born out of wed lock," Our eyes meet again, mine surprised and his shamed, "And if what my mom had said was true, then I would be a disgrace." He looks down again. "For her I was a miracle, she'd said. The only thing her good-for-nothing daughter and son in law will ever do."

"What happened to her?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"She died a month later." He said with sadness. "Pneumonia. With her age she just couldn't fight hard enough. Pops couldn't afford to take us to the funeral in Albany, so we just ordered a very nice bouquet of flowers." He looks up at me with glistening brown eyes. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened, had I known her sooner…or even longer."

"I'm sorry, baby." I say with sincerity.

He doesn't acknowledge that but looks at my scar instead. "I usually say my brother did it." He says in reference to the scar. "That we were playing army or something and I fell or he accidentally stabbed me with a small tree branch." He goes quiet and pulls back from me altogether, the playfulness gone and in its place ugly memories.

"Why?" I ask already pretty much knowing the answer.

"I don't want to relive the truth." Was his simple, honest response. "Talking makes it real, real makes it hurt, and hurt makes me cry." He sniffles, "I don't like crying. It makes someone weak."

I sit up, "No it doesn't, Booth. It makes you feel the pain, yes, but it's necessary. In order to move on and quit having to relive that same pain over and over again, you have to talk about it. You have to revisit that place, and cry those tears, and see it's done…it can't hurt you anymore than you let it now." Pat on my back, thank you. That was very insightful. Point two for Jack Hodgins.

"But the scars…the memories…it's all here!" he says the tears coming back only for him wipe them away angrily. "You see, it hurts no matter what I do!" He holds up his hand to show me the falling droplets.

"It will hurt for as long as you let it hurt you, Booth." I say again. "Your grandmother was right. You are a miracle." He shakes his head in disagreement, but I firmly say, "No, you are. I'm not just saying this to you." Our eyes meet and everything else in the room disappears. "You love people, even when they don't love you back. You fight for the undeserving pricks that can't see how much you actually have done to keep them safe." I see the flicker in his eyes at my mention of Jared. "You are a testimony, Booth. Not garbage. And I want to make the pain cease for you, babe, but you have to let it happen. You have to stop allowing yourself to continue replaying the memories. It's a physical choice to not let it rule your life anymore. Do you want that?"

He looks at me with sincerity. "Yes."

I nod and lean forward to kiss him very softly, "Then let's try this again, okay?"

"Okay," he breathes and we start over with the kisses, soft and gentle at first but deep and probing quickly after. Hands on cheeks, fingers in hair, tongues doing dances that have danced too many times to count…this is our offering to silence the memories. This is our offering to each other, because within each other is silence from memories.

After a few minutes of this, I guide him to lie back on the even more rumpled sheets, helping him arrange his pelvis into a comfortable position. "You can explore me again some other time." I state with a slightly cheeky grin. He gives a mock pout, but nods his head. A few more kisses to his mouth and I start to sit up.

"Where're you going?" he asks confused and squirming a bit on the bed, obviously in need of my attention.

"Lube." He seems momentarily stunned, but it quickly vanishes. "What?" I ask.

"It's just…I thought you had never…you know…" he replies and looks at my cock as if to prove his point.

"I'm a scientist, Booth. No, I haven't ever done…" I pause and my eyes twitch, "_this_ before, but I'm not ignorant to how two men have sex. And I'm probably going to have to wing it in that department anyway. It's not like I stock my guest bedrooms with _that_ kind of stuff." I laugh there and so does he, which is a relief.

"Vaseline or lotion will work just fine if you have any." He offers.

"I might have some Vaseline." I nod and head into the en suite. After some searching through the polished cabinets, I found some. Good, the lotion would probably sting. Coming back into the room, I pause and look at the Queen sized bed for what felt like the first time. Booth in the very center, legs spread and slightly raised, sheets and comforter bunched up, and the headboard adding a sense of beauty with its hand-carved wooden roses and other such designs towering over him. I smile as I take it all in. The sun, now higher in the sky, made Booth appear to be spotlighted…a beacon.

"Something wrong?" he asks worried and slides his legs down to see me.

I contemplate that. Is something wrong?

My life is a vat of things that don't make sense, my friends are changing and rearranging to the point of me not even knowing who they are anymore, my love and thought to be sole purpose is gone, and this FBI guy whom I thought would never look at me with anything other than annoyance is sprawled across my guest bed waiting for me…

I grin to myself.

"No, Booth, nothing's wrong." And with that I climb back up and silence his next question with a kiss.

"Mmm," he moans, eyes closed, when I pull away to open the jar. I smirk, have I said I love that sound? I set the jar aside and spread his legs a little wider to accommodate me, before scooting back to the end of his body on my knees. Making sure he's watching me with rapt attention, I slowly slide forward with my hands running the lengths of his legs. He gasps and I grin at him. "Jack," he says on a pant while I nuzzle the tuffs of hair around his shining family jewels.

"Yes?" I ask him with a hint of amusement. I don't want to talk anymore, so maybe if I…

"Ah, Jack," he cries as I lick down his penis and to his hole once. Works like a charm.

After repeating this a few times, I start to change it up a bit. I run my tongue down to his asshole, and then instead of going back up, I lick around it and return to my usual course. This has him saying all kinds of non-broody stuff, "Jack, don't st-_unngh_…I ohh _yes_…._**please**_, Jack…" I smile. That's the word I needed.

Not stopping my ministrations, I dip a finger into the petroleum jelly and cautiously bring it to his entrance. I know he knows it's there, for he has tensed under me now…or would it be above me now? Doesn't matter, focus Hodgins. Nervous as hell, as I carefully touch his muscle and almost stop all together as he freezes. Did I hurt him? Looking up, his eyes are closed and he is biting his lip. Anticipation or pain? "Booth?" I finally ask him.

"Huh?" he's dazed and attempts to look at me without cross eyes.

"Tell me when it hurts too much okay?" I sound very unsure of myself. Damn.

His eyes open and he looks a bit puzzled, before glancing down. Recognition hit as he smiles at me kindly. "It's going to hurt, sweetheart. I haven't been a bottom person for a very long time, but I am okay with the pain. I can handle it."

"I know but…" I stop and look away to hide my own tears. He called me sweetheart. I know it's stupid but it's nice to be called something besides my given name. It's been way too long.

"What?" he asks. Looking into his wondering eyes, I ask my own internal question: Why am I so affected by him calling me sweetheart, and what does it mean? "Hodgins, talk to me, what is it?" he insists.

I shake my head and cup his chin, ignoring his probing gaze. "Nothing, where were we?"

After a battle of determined gazes between the two of us, he concedes. "Right about," he grabs my hand and brings it to his waiting entrance, practically mewling when I smirk and use the pad to press a couple of times on the exposed muscle, "…there, _please_, there." He begs, and I laugh softly as I started my quest inside his warm depths.

I didn't so much as stop my pressing administrations, as continue pressing further. I was still terrified of hurting him, and didn't want to go too fast that I'd tear something. That would be of the bad. So instead, I let my finger rock inside some, and bring it back. It was a weird feeling, at first. His muscles rejected me, but after I stilled some and waited, they relaxed for me to go again. Looking up, I see Booth's face pulled tight. Whether its pain or pleasure, I don't think I can handle knowing right now. What I do know is that this is the last step before I can get inside, and I have to stop thinking so fucking much and get on with it.

So I do. Back and forth. Back and forth. After a few more times, it's getting increasingly difficult to keep up this pace. I'm so hard, I feel like I could cut glass. His whispers and moans and whatever the hell else that are coming out of his mouth aren't helping either. Feeling like I had overcompensated a little with the one finger, I pull fully out and ignore Booth's whimpered gasp as I slicked up a second finger. This time, I'm not as cautious as I know more of what I'm doing.

"Unngh," he utters as the second finger penetrates. 'Unngh' is right. He is so tight; I don't know how long I am going to be able to hold it in him. But I continue anyway, and smile despite my situation. I am actually starting to adjust to the idea of fucking my friend and associate's partner. There is something so erotic and forbidden about it that makes me flush a little more. My fate is sealed when he calls, "Oh god, Jack! Please, sweetheart get inside me…**now!**" I am only so happy to oblige, but…

"Babe, I could tear…"

"I don't give a fucking shit! Fuck me, _now _please!" he growls. I shake my head from between his legs and sit up to put a healthy amount of the jelly on my aching prick. I'm actually relieved. Any longer and I would have had an embarrassing situation. I shiver at the release of breath I get when I place myself right outside his quivering hole. It's not supposed to feel this good, but it does…and that's all that matters.

Leaning forward, I kiss his lips deeply and push forward, metaphorically crossing my fingers that nothing bad happens to spoil the mood; but it doesn't. He grips my shoulders in a vice grip, that makes me afraid he might suffocate me. Or maybe I'm gripping him that tightly and he thought he should return the favor? I don't know, who cares! The deeper I push inside, it certainly isn't me.

Since I haven't had sex in a while, pushing my way into anything besides my own palm…feels like Heaven. I can actually taste clouds when I pull back and we both groan together. His hard on has slightly fallen; I'm sure though it's due to the pain of being stretched this way. Mine would to, I imagine. After what felt like forever, and not long enough if Booth's whimpers were anything to go by for him, I am fully sheathed and ready to go.

"Give me a second." He says on a pant. His eyes are wide and he is expelling breath more than taking it in. I knew I should have stretched him more.

"Okay, take your time, baby." I kiss his one cheek, then the other, and begin worshipping his face and neck with my tongue, lips, and teeth. I feel him standing more at attention below, once I'm finished. "I'm ready." He sighs and slides his legs up a little further. This only makes my pelvis dip more and I can't help the… "Fuck, Seeley," that falls from my mouth. I take a minute to get a hold of myself and then begin to rock a little.

"Mmm," is his response, so I rock a little more. "Ugh, Jack." He begins rocking with me, signaling he is pretty much recovered from the implanting myself in him, and I smile…now is the main show. I pull back some and then push as hard as I can forward. His head throws back on the pillows with a scream of joy. Thank you, thank you, yes I am good at making people scream in bed. One of the best things Angela thought I did.

"Oh Jack." He groans, "Ugh, more." And I start thrusting a little more.

As the minutes turned into what felt like hours of panting, pounding, and begging; I realized how Booth was helping me just as much as I was helping him. He was giving a place to put all of my own grief into and leave it behind, just like I was taking all of his grief and forcing him to leave it behind. Tears sprung to my eyes when this became my epiphany. I really don't need Angela as much as I thought I did.

"Unngh, Jack, so fucking good." He says, and the groans and moans and whines and whimpers passed between us only made it that much more clear. I can move on. I can find somebody else. He can move on. He can find somebody else. The world ends and begins with each day passing; and with every thrust inside his taut, pliant body, I feel that much closer to a new beginning. "OH, yes!" He screams, as I continue to hit his prostate. "Don't stop! Don't ever stop!"

Can't stop. Have to push us over the edge. Have to push us that much closer to a new dawn.

"So…ohhh, please, **harder**!" He grips my back tighter, nails scratching their way down.

Tight.

Tighter.

Oh so fucking tight it hurts.

Emotions – a dime a dozen.

He's crying, I'm crying – both for different reasons.

Or are they so different anymore?

Push, push, push.

Pant, whimper, yell and scream.

It all folds in on one another in a haze of lust, and frenzied passion.

"Let yourself go for me, baby." I growl into his ear and he shudders beneath me, turning his head to the side in a rare show of submission. "Cum for me," I continue, "Cum hard. Let me take you away for a second into a new world. _**Scream**_ for me." He does scream and his head is rolling as he does. His body seemingly moving of its own accord against mine. And this is beautiful. His face is magnificent here, and I can only imagine what I would look like. Thrown into the tide of hopefully endless pleasure. Throw into the tide of **one** constant truth: the person fucking you is the one who rules your body, if for only an hour or so. It feels like it's been a hundred years.

"Oh, Jack… I'm cumming. I'm…" he stops talking as his breathing speeds up even faster than it already was. I lace our hands together above his head, mimicking the gesture he was doing to me earlier. Angling deeper, I keep pounding harder and deeper and more insistent. His internal walnut is my new best friend. He had said he didn't want it fast, but when the moment really gets started…what the hell difference does it make? We all want it fast, hard, carnal, and feral. We all want it to make our heads feel as if they aren't attached to our bodies.

"Mother fuck!" he screeches and his internal muscles clamp around me even more, making it that much more of a struggle to pound away our lives. "JACK!" he screams and shudders and then I feel a warm sensation on my hip…but I keep going. He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I think he passed out. Two more savage thrusts and, "BOOTH!"

I cum and pass out myself on top of my lover.

***

Sometime later, after the smog of sweat and cum have been cleared and we have awoken from our orgasmic induced sleep, Booth and I are sitting in my dining room nursing a cup of hot tea. It may not be the manliest drink, but it feels good. Much like sitting across from him, with the high afternoon sun shining on the back of his head, and knowing that he isn't walking entirely straight because of me. I smile into my cup. Yeah, this does feel good.

"So," he starts moving the mug aside to clasp his hands together in front of himself.

"So," I joke and I'm surprised to see him chuckle.

"What happens now?" he asks, and underneath those seemingly simple words is a volcano of rationales and explanations and questions and reasons, but not right in this moment. This moment is too nice, too serene. Here we can both pretend we are two souls adrift in the tides of life, not what we actually we are. Or is that what we really are?

Booth and I really aren't that different are we? I have said this many times, but the reality of those words just now hit me. We are exactly the same, just on different parallels. Do I find this refreshing or scary? Remembering the taste of his kisses…do any of the questions matter now?

"What doesn't happen now?" he looks puzzled, but I plow on. "Do we really need this conversation, Seeley?" He begins to speak but I cut him off by leaning forward and taking his hand in mine. "We were fixing each other." I pause, "We chose this path we are now on…can't we enjoy it? Even if it only lasts another few hours?" I plead.

He observes me and then looks down at our intertwined fingers. I can practically hear the internal struggle, but also see who remained victorious. He lets his lips curl up into a 'regular Booth' smile, and I smile just as big. He's back in the game, and I am right there with him. After a few more moments he quietly asks, with a touch of amusement, "Who says it has to only be a few hours?"

Giving my sexy grin I say, "I certainly didn't, did I?"

"Ah, I think you did." He teased.

"Well, my mistake." We laugh together, happy and bright. Free of pain and misery. I eye him, just as he does me and together we take another sip of tea.

"So we're gonna do this then?" he asks shifting forward, eyes twinkling, and turning his palm open faced so I could stroke it with my finger tips.

"Yeah." I say after a quiet moment. Looking into his eyes and sealing our hands together, I finish. "Yeah, I think maybe we are."

I'm strong  
But I break  
I'm stubborn  
And I make plenty of mistakes  
Yeah I'm hard  
And life with me is never easy  
To figure out, to love  
I'm jaded but oh so lovely  
All you have to do is hold me  
And you'll know and you'll see just how sweet it can be  
If you'll trust me, love me, let me  
Maybe, maybe

Someday  
When we're at the same place  
When we're on the same road  
When it's okay to hold my hand  
Without feeling lost  
Without all the excuses  
When it's just because you love me, you let me, you need me  
Then maybe, maybe  
All you have to do is hold me  
And you'll know and you'll see just how sweet it can be  
If you'll trust me, love me, let me  
Maybe, maybe

I'm confusing as hell  
I'm north and south  
And I'll probably never have it all figured out  
But what I know is I wasn't meant to walk this world without you  
And I promise I'll try  
Yeah I'm gonna try to give you every little part of me  
Every single detail you missed with your eyes  
Then maybe  
Maybe, yeah maybe, maybe, maybe, yeah maybe

One day  
We'll meet again and you'll need me, you'll see me completely  
Every little bit  
Oh yeah maybe you'll love me, you'll love me then

I don't want to be tough  
And I don't want to be proud  
I don't need to be fixed and I certainly don't need to be found  
I'm not lost  
I need to be loved  
I just need to be loved  
I just want to be loved by you and I won't stop 'cause I believe  
That maybe, yeah maybe  
Maybe, yeah maybe, maybe, maybe, yeah maybe

I should know better than to touch the fire twice  
But I'm thinking maybe, yeah maybe you might

Maybe, love me maybe

"Maybe" by Kelly Clarkson, from album: _My December_

_***_

**WOW!! 15,738 words! Review worthy? I think so. So pretty please?**


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